Next Year
by delena1997
Summary: He was bad news, the rumours of alcoholism and rehab, the infamous ex-girlfriend shadowing his past. He was in the tabloids every week - the trials of New York's famed musicians. He wasn't good for her and she knew it, but the draw of Damon Salvatore with his sweet, hidden lyrics had had, and surely always would have Elena Gilbert caught. "I'll be home for next year, darling."
1. I

_**A/N: Oh god. Why am I starting anything story? It's not like I have ten million others unfinished or anything.**_

_**Truth is, the only inspiration I'm getting right now if for stories that I have yet to write, and now my other stories are suffering from it. I'm sorry ot those following some fics; especially 'What is this?' I swear, I'll get around to it. **_

**_Stick with it, I've written an outline so I know where it's going, but that doesn't always help. _****_The first chapter is always the worst, what if you all hate it? It's nearly as bad as writing an epilogue, god, it's hell sometimes. _**

* * *

_**i**_

* * *

'_I'm in.' _She thought dejectedly, shaking her head as she drove through the streets of the unfamiliar city, searching for the place she should have been this entire time. Two words, two syllables, four letters. It was barely enough to form a sentence yet those two words, that _pathetic_ excuse of a sentence had thrown her head first into everything. She almost wished it was something more poetic, maybe a bit more flare would have done them good; perhaps it would have prepared her, and him, for the road bumps, or I guess you could call them giant, relationship-destroying grenades if you liked, thrown their way. It had always seemed ironic to her; two words so simple, forming something that was as far from the spectrum of simplicity as you could get. She was tossed into the deep end, fed to the lions. Every danger-ridden metaphor you can think off; she'd done it. Those two little words, spoken in the darkness of a club so long ago into the ear of man she'd just met had been truer than she could have ever fathomed at the time the spilled out of her mouth.

'_I'm in.' _she thought again, finally spotting the place she needed to be. She whirled the rental car into the turn-off recklessly, fighting her way through the sea of cars to find a space. As if acting on autopilot she parked, probably illegally outside the loading bay, and hurled out of the car, sprinting frantically through the throngs of people. She powered effortlessly through the security detail guarding the backstage entrances. Over time they had learned her face, and when she disappeared so had his spark. They let her through without question.

Breathing heavily, she finally arrived backstage. Waiting in the wings, she laid eyes on the man who had been everything good and bad in her life for longer than she could even remember. Her heart clenched in her chest as she watched him where he most belonged; on the stage, pouring his heart into the music VISION played.

'_I'm in.'_ the words seem to mock her now. If only she'd known all that time ago that those words would be so true; that they would dominate her life and throw her into the limelight without so much as a warning. Once you were in, you were in; you didn't just step back with a goodbye and a 'thank you very much'. She had been ready then, even if she hadn't realized it and she was ready now. She was in deeper than she'd ever thought and for once, she was happy to stay where she way. She wasn't fighting for a way to the surface anymore.

She took a deep breath as the thunderous cheers echoed over the cavernous stadium.

'_I'm in.'_

* * *

Elena Gilbert sighed, as she stood alone on the crowed sidewalk and stared at the huge luminous building in East Manhattan. The slick concrete walls were bare of graffiti; devoid of the street art that spilled over the walls near her home in a golden corner of the small island, bringing the dull grey concrete to life. Others may disagree, maybe they would claim it was a public disgrace or vandalism but Elena was young, she saw the beauty beneath the harsh paint marking the old grey walls. The streets were packed with sleek black town cars instead of the typical yellow NYC taxis. This wasn't her place. It couldn't have been any further from her place if you tried. Caroline Forbes was used to this, the money, the town cars, the air of the filthy rich. She loved the electric feeling behind these clubs. She also loved to be late. She called these places classy; Elena called them boring. Too many security guards, the drinks were too expensive and you always had some bitchy bartender looking down her nose at you like you were scum of the earth.

The pulsing beats echoed onto the bustling streets as bodies heaved and shoved, fighting to get to the front of the long queue twisting and winding it's path long past Elena's range of sight. Two unbelievably huge guys blocked the entrance to the doorway of La Volpe, guarding the clichéd velvet rope that barred access to the club, causing the general public to wait out in the cold where they belonged. Obviously. Antonio Volpe, the Italian living the life of a twenty year old rather than that of one in his late forties, catered exclusively to the rich and famous and sly like a fox as his name suggested. She always wondered somewhere in the back of his mind if he'd taken his Italian roots to heart and become the sly bastard he was on purpose. He was the perfect servant of the upper crust of New York. His clubs were of the highest elite and as private as a public building could be, if you could even class something so guarded as _public_; the insides were a mystery to those left out in the cold, those without the pleasure of being born wealthy. Under the same name across the world, many of Volpe's nightclubs dominating the nightlife of the city it inhabited. Volpe was ingenious, true to name; he was loved by the privileged, the heiresses, the rock stars and the many people who made names for themselves merely by existing. She gave credit where credit was due, but the exploitation of true talent left a sour taste in her mouth, as did the vast majority of people that surrounded her. There was the rich to her left, the famous to her right and their ass-kissing sycophants crawling over them everywhere she fucking looked.

If Caroline was champagne, late arrivals and classy clubs where a decent bottle of whiskey might cost the same as her rent; she was the backstreet clubs of New York. The small hidden treasures off the beaten track. The venues where talent was essential for success was where she and Caroline often ended up, much to her blonde friend's amusement. Caroline had been blessed with money, good looks and a heart of pure gold. She had the wealthy father, the beautiful mother and the picturesque life that inevitably sucks to live in. Of course, Elena had been part of that world at one point. Nine years old and at Gala events and balls, dressed up in pretty dresses and ribbons like an ornament on the mantel; it wasn't the life a child should live, and maybe someone; some higher power or God or mad scientist realized that, because in a heartbeat her whole life came crashing down around her and in that same heartbeat her parents were gone too.

And there stemmed her distaste for those in the limelight, including herself. Her parent's deaths didn't stop her from being a Gilbert and the etiquette so many people expected her to follow. These rules, the strict guidelines had caused numerous problems between her and Caroline's parents, until one day she crossed some line they had drawn years back when she'd first moved in and they kicked her out. It seemed like they were glad to be rid of her.

So she stood alone on a crowded sidewalk waiting for a best friend who was always reliable twenty minutes late every time they went out with thoughts too heavy for a Friday night. She grunted in irritation and reluctantly stalked over to the bouncers that had irritated her so much when she'd first spotted them; they even had the fucking sunglasses like they wore in _Men in Black. _That was just ridiculous. It was nearing midnight. You don't need sunglasses at midnight. Flashing her ID, the rope was moved aside for her. Her name didn't carry the same weight Caroline's did, but after he died, Elena had discovered her father had known Volpe, so with a stroke of luck, helped by her father's unhealthy habits appetite for ridiculously aged whiskey, and a slight twinge of anticipation she stepped through the doors.

Even she had to admit, Volpe knew how to run a club. There was the main room, with the heaving dance floor and flashing strobe lights. It had a dark oak wrap-around bar and many little alcoves off to the side where several couples stood doing god knows what. There was a set of mirrored doors directly opposite each other across the wide, crowded dance floor – guarded by bouncers, of course – that led towards the second and third tiers of the club. Third tier was her secret love in all of Volpe's clubs. Quiet and abandoned, no one bothered her, and the added exclusivity of the upper levels was the only asset she had found in any of the places. And the drinks, she drinks were pretty great too. She'd never make it through a night in one of these places without copious amounts of alcohol on offer. Saying that, she didn't always feel like getting completely shit-faced, it was just nice to have the option.

Escaping thankfully through the door into the relative silence of the stairwell she followed the hallways, finding her way upwards. Again only needing a quick check of ID she found herself on the third tier. Perhaps she should have waited outside for Caroline. When you know your friend is going to turn up twenty minutes late at _least_ and you only wait about thirty seconds, all you can hope is that they realize you're _not_ in the mood to wait in the freezing cold surrounded by millions of ass-kissing minions screaming over Z-list celebrities. She shrugged to herself, knowing that she looked clinically insane but not quite minding, as she slipped behind the bar and trailed an eye over the enormous racks on the back wall. Why such an empty area of the place needed so much hard liquor was a never-ending mystery to her.

"Bourbon." A soft voice said behind her. The noise of fabric on leather sounded as the man sat heavily on the leather topped barstool.

Ignoring the voice, she kept looking at the bottles. Nothing seemed to jump out at her. In the way some foods just sounded really good sometimes and you just _had_ to eat them, the same was true of drinking sometimes. And right now, there was nothing.

"Seriously?" The guy snapped grouchily. "If Volpe's hired a bartender he could have at least hired a good one."

She turned around irritably, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the man before her and looking at him with utter disdain as she leant her hands on the worn bar top. "I'm not a bartender." She said, looking more closely at his face. She knew him from somewhere, she was sure of it.

The man nodded in understanding a sly smirk fleeing across his face. He stood up and vaulted himself over the bar so he stood behind it with her. "I knew it." He said smirking. And there it was again; she bit back a curse exasperatedly. How could someone she'd never met seem so familiar? She almost laughed at the thought, everyone in New York seemed to have some claim to fame. "Volpe would never hire a bartender for the third tier."

"I hope not." Elena said sighing. "This is the only reason I tolerate these places."

"They aren't so bad." He said, meeting her eyes and effectively melting her as she finally realized exactly who she was. It hit her like a ton of bricks; it was like a million clay bricks crashing down on her.

Damon Salvatore, possibly the world's most desired man, and a member of VISION, a band which she had seen years ago when they were just starting out, stood next to her. Leaning casually against the mini-fridges under the bar and gazing at the endless rows of bottles, the whole thing seemed slightly surreal. With a voice with bourbon and honey, eyes like slivers of ice and hair like the night sky, there was no female on earth who would not sell her soul to have just one night with him. VISON had five members; Tyler Lockwood, Matt Donovan, Klaus Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore and then, the blue eyed devil himself.

He truly was the devil in disguise in most of the tabloid's eyes. VISION's bad boy. The one you could count on for a good story. There was always a new picture of him, leaving a club with a new girl on his arm. Then there was Katherine Pierce, the infamous ex-girlfriend. That story seemed to be the turning point for millions of women; before her he was involved, he had a serious girlfriend on his arm and then after her, he seemed intent of sleeping with half the population of New York, as well as assorted others on his tours. Nothing is more appealing than a little bit of risk, and Damon Salvatore seemed to offer that. Katherine Pierce had been as much of a heart breaker then as Damon Salvatore was a womanizer now, but the world felt for him, the tabloids told his story for him. He'd been so blatantly in love one year, and the next he was on a crashing downward spiral. There was always some rumor floating about concerning him; he was in rehab, he was dead, he was retiring from music. He was on drugs. He was an alcoholic.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that she'd broken his heart.

"What," she pointed out grinning as she pulled out a beer and hit the bottle top off against the wood. She sighed, her thumb brushing over the slight chip she'd made. "The screaming fans don't do it for you?"

The man cringed, looking slightly disappointed. "Sometimes I just want to go to an island somewhere far away were no one knows who I am."

"It's not so bad. I'm not one of your crazy stalkers." Elena said matter-of-factly, shrugging her shoulders and taking a drink. "I did see you once though four, five years ago at Rockwood. Don't get me wrong, you're great and I love your stuff, but sometimes your other fans are too much to deal with."

"Tell me about." He groaned, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. "And you saw the Rockwood gig? No fucking way." He turned to her, his grin a mile wide. "That was our last backstreet gig. Right after that we got scouted and everything was a thousand miles an hour from there. I wish I could go back sometimes." He added wistfully, glancing absently at her. "Being able to go to some venue and wait months for a slot. I miss having to really work for it."

Elena eyes him curiously. "You got sick of getting mobbed downstairs?" she asking, amusement coloring her voice.

"The endless women throwing themselves at me?" he asked her wide a wide smile. "You kidding? It's great."

"So, you come up here to stare an endless bottles of bourbon but you don't pick one?" she asked, more amused by the situation than curious. He'd been staring at the bottles since he'd got here.

Damon glanced sideways at her, his eyes appraising her with unreadable scrutiny. "I wasn't planning on drinking more than a beer." He said quietly, his tone ambiguous.

"Why order one if you're not planning on drinking it?" she asked, reaching down to pull a second beer out the mini-fridge. "Have you seen the prices here? I don't care how famous you are, this shit's expensive."

Damon chuckled lightly, his eyes tighter than they had been a moment ago. He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors." He pointed out, tapping his fingers on the table in a steady rhythm.

"Rumors hardly count as evidence." She told him, handing him an open beer. He took it gratefully, taking a long gulp. "I heard you were dead actually."

Damon laughed again, the melody a little freer as it echoed around the empty room. "How do you think I got up here unnoticed?" he asked, his eyes twinkling mysteriously.

"Damon!" someone yelled faintly from the stairwell. Then there was the sound of someone storming up several stairs at a time and cursing irritably as he went.

"Unnoticed." Elena echoed sniggering, a grin splitting across her face. "I'd say you have about five seconds to hide."

Damon looked at her incredulously. "Hide? Where?"

"Four… Three…" she drawled, miming looking at her watch, which she was actually wearing for once. She rolled her eyes and shoved at his shoulder, pushing him down to the ground. She was struggling to regain her composure when a large hand grabbed her hand suddenly and yanked her to the ground. "Ow!" she yelled in a hushed voice, just at the door swung open. She glared at Damon who just smiled innocently, leaning casually against a fire extinguisher.

"Fuck." The voice said loudly once. Elena giggled, clamping a hand firmly across her mouth to stop the sound bubbling out. Damon shot her a look, looking hesitant for a moment or two before throwing his own hand on top of her own. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That _bastard_." The voice repeated, slowly getting quieter and quieter until it faded away completely.

Damon shook his head and removed his hand from her mouth. "Hiding is not your forte."

"Getting away unnoticed clearly isn't yours." She retorted trying to stand up in her heels but getting up from lying on the floor was always difficult. Damon scoffed and held out his hand, hauling her halfway to her feet before he dropped back down suddenly, a sheepish look on his face as he dropped her hand in his haste to get down, making her crash back to the floor noisily. "What the fu-?" she began ask loudly before his hand clamped over hers for the second time inside sixty seconds.

"ELENA!" Caroline yelled loudly as she stormed into the room, her high heels clacking against the all-wood floor. "Elena I _know_ you're in here, you spend your life avoiding fun!" Damon gently removed his hand, holding up his other hand in a gesture to keep her silent. His blue eyes were even more beautiful up close; made up of a thousand greys and blues, she could spend hours looking into them.

Finally looking away, Elena made a face at Caroline's words, scoffing silently. Damon smirked at her for a moment, then his eyes turned wide in shock as Caroline began to make her way over to the bar and seemingly sat in one of the seats. Apparently this was too much for Elena to take because just then, right when you can't laugh, everything is immediately funnier. She giggled uncontrollably, both hands clamped over her mouth in a futile attempt to stop the sound coming out.

Caroline's head appeared above them, her emerald green eyes clouded in suspicion, then amusement then they went so wide in shock it was almost comical.

"Hi." Damon said, completely unabashed. He held his hand up from his position lying on the floor as if to shake her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Caroline shook his hand slowly, her eyes boring into Elena's shamelessly. "Pleasure." She said dryly. Damon smirked and stood up, taking Elena's hand without warning and yanking her upwards. He held out his hand to her this time, his eyes nearly melting her on spot.

"Damon Salvatore." He introduced casually. "Nice to meet you. I don't think we've met."

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, taking his hand and shaking it just to humor him. "Elena." Caroline was staring in disbelief as her best friend. _This_ girl hadn't been around in years. God knows how many guys tried to hit on her, she was a beautiful girl after all, but she'd _never _– as in it was unheard of in all the years Caroline had known her – seen her play back.

"Well, Elena." He said his eyes dancing as her name rolled off his tongue. He held out his hand again, this time an invitation. "Would you like to dance?"

Next thing she knew they were in the midst of the crowd with Damon's hands on her hips as his chest pressed to her back. The pounding beat of the music took her over, the strobe lights wiping away her resignation as the moved her hips to the music, reaching one arm behind her to wind around his neck.

His breath was hot in her ear; his lips brushing against the skin of her neck as his hands roamed over sides, her stomach, her hips. He spun her around so she was pressed tight against his body, her arms automatically draping around his shoulders as the music moved them. His mouth found her shoulder without much thought, brushing his lips across the warm skin of her collarbones setting her on fire as electricity sparked between them. His hand roamed freely over her back, the feel of her hips, the gentle dip of her spine and the smooth skin of her thighs.

Then she was cold, suddenly disorientated on the dance floor. His hands weren't on her anymore. She couldn't feel his hot breath tickling her ear. He shot her an apologetic glance as she finally spotted the interruption, a vaguely familiar man with striking emerald eyes talking rapidly to Damon. Damon was shrugging, gesturing at her in what she assumed was an explanation. The man seemed to roll his eyes and shoved Damon's shoulder gently, causing him to punch him lightly in the gut and make him way back to her.

"There's a party." He told her quietly, his lips near her ear again. "I've been told it's 'mandatory' by my little brother of all people, something about someone who can do something or another for us that clearly is going to decide the fate of our future. God, you should have heard him." He shrugged, his hands flailing wildly in exasperation, his blue eyes standing out against the dark room. "You in?"

Elena shrugged, her eyes sparkling in delight as the club lighting illuminated her face. She nodded, leaning in to brush his lips against his ear.

"I'm in."

* * *

~E 25/1


	2. II

_**ii.**_

The so-called 'something about someone who can do something or another', to quote the extremely euphemistic words of Damon Salvatore, turned out to be a full-fledged press launch for something in VISON's new album. Elena sighed and looked around awkwardly as she walked into the upper class building at Damon's side. She thanked her lucky stars that Caroline had forced her into looking good tonight; there were sleazy looking photographers either side of her and they seemed intent on blinding her with numerous camera flashes and deafening her with their incoherent yells.

Despite it all, she felt that long-time ignored feeling building up in her stomach, stirring up and splitting that wide, involuntary smile across her face. There was something about the blinding lights, something about the deafening cries that she liked, just a little. Maybe it was the thrill; the whole 'fifteen minutes of fame' thing but she liked it. She glanced at Damon, the bright flashes making his eyes lighter and his hair darker. They threw his whole profile into sharp focus. The excitement buzzed around the room like electricity, sharp and sudden like a lightning storm in the midnight sky. It was then that she figured it wasn't much to do with the rich or the famous, or the lights or the cameras – when has she _ever_ enjoyed this stuff? And it was a lot more to do with the man standing next to her. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or most likely a combination of both. She sighed loudly, staring around the bustling room. She'd figure it out in the morning.

Damon risked a glance at her, a small smirk sliding onto his features. "You look fucking miserable, Elena Gilbert."

Elena laughed loudly, her eyes shining in a way her face had forgotten. "I'm thinking, Damon Salvatore, is that such a crime?"

"It is when it makes your pretty face goes all pouty." He said, placing a hand absently on the small of her back and leading her through the crowds.

She ignored his comment and let the strong hand on her back set her on fire. They ended up by a roped off area, dotted with assorted 'unimportant' people or so Damon whispered in her ear.

"You know," she whispered back, her lips brushing against his ear lobe. "You really downplay stuff."

"You know," he whispered back mockingly, a half smile teasing his lips. "They aren't all that important."

She rolled her eyes widely, shooting him an incredulous look. He shrugged innocently, looking like butter wouldn't melt. Her high heels clicked against the illuminated white flooring as he shoved her playfully up the stairs and towards a circular booth on the elevated area. He slung an arm carelessly around her back and pulled her down next to him on the velvet-covered seats.

The booth fell silent as five pairs of eyes swiveled suddenly and fell upon the new pair. Damon smirked roguishly and winked to a blonde haired girl.

"Hey Lex, don't look so surprised." He drawled grinning widely. "I might get offended."

"Not likely." The blonde muttered under her breath, huffing and leaning against the back of the chair with folded arms. "I'm surprised you actually came."

Elena glanced between the bickering pair and let her gaze travel across the other faces in the room. Three other men, with that vaguely sense of familiarity you get from even the remotely famous and two girls she swore she had never laid eyes on before that moment.

"You're being rude, brother." A brown haired guy said disapprovingly, the smile taking the bite out of his words. "I'm Stefan." He introduced warmly, nodding at her, making her think that strange unknown girls turning up on his brother's arm wasn't all too out of the question. He frowned slightly at the other people around the table when a dull silence followed.

"Elena." She replied casually, glancing around the table. It wasn't for at least another minute before she realized exactly whom she was sitting with. Her eyes snapped up suddenly, reexamining the men's faces. Matt Donovan sat directly opposite her; with his baby blue eyes and blonde hair he was that typical All-American football playing cliché, right down to the dimples. Next to the walking stereotype, there was Tyler Lockwood, all mysterious and dark and gorgeous. With dark hair and dark eyes he was as different from Matt as you could ever imagine. His arm was slung around the back of a dark-haired girl she didn't recognize. After that was another girl, blonde this time with a bright smile. For world famous members of a band, and their appropriate assortment of actress/model/heiress girlfriends they seemed just like a normal group going out for drinks.

On the blonde girl's other side, sat the first man who'd spoken. Stefan Salvatore, Damon's younger and a hell of a lot more grounded brother. Ever since VISION had found their way onto her radar she'd been curious about the brothers. Jeremy drove her crazy every time she visited him, she could never imagine working, sleeping, living and spending every waking moment with him.

"You're being rude." Damon mocked playfully, a warm familiarity in his voice as he grinned at the people around the table.

"Lexi." The blonde introduced, smiling at Elena and shaking her head at Damon. "If you ignore him, he shuts up."

"It's all a lie, I don't." he retorted, winking at her slyly. Elena rolled her eyes and leant her elbows on the table.

"Ty, stop being awkward. Your girl feels uncomfortable." Lexi ordered sharply, swatting his head jokingly.

"Leave him alone, Lex. You've been grilling them all evening." Stefan scolded playfully, elbowing his girlfriend gently. She sighed and began introductions herself. Elena smiled widely; she was nearly like Caroline aside from the less hyperactive screaming Care did a lot.

"Elena: This is Tyler, Hayley, Matty-"

"Matt." Matt interjected wearily shaking his head. "Hi." He said warmly, looking at Elena with undisguised interest. "And for the last time, will you drop it?"

"Matty and Stefan." She finished as if he hadn't spoken. "Ty's jetlagged, normally he'd have hit on you-"

Stefan coughed loudly sounding suspiciously like, "_Hayley_." As he wound an arm around Lexi's shoulders and smirked.

Hayley rolled her eyes and ran her hands through her hair. "Lexi won't shut up. Trust me, I know." She groaned and buried her face in her hands.

Elena laughed easily, her eyes wandering back to Damon's face. She was surprised to see his eyes dancing over her features.

"Damon." Stefan said suddenly, standing up and edging out of the booth. "Let's get a drink."

Damon groaned loudly as he stood up. "Don't yell at me now, little brother. I came here right?"

Stefan glared at him, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. "Drink. Now."

"You sound like Dad."

"Shut up."

"You do. Not my fault if I want to comment on it."

As their playful bickering died away, the fifth and final member of VISION slid into the booth groaning in irritation.

Klaus Mikaelson, arrogant, British and Caroline's guilty pleasure, was currently sitting opposite her taking a deep gulp from the crystal tumbler in his hand. "Mate, where's Damon? I swear I saw him with-" he trailed off, his eyes scanning over her. "I saw him with you."

"Bar." She said simply, gesturing towards the white illuminated bar tops that edged the raised section they were sitting in. She found herself missing the deep oak and worn wood of Volpe's clubs. This place was all bright light and sharp lines; it was all very modern, very minimalistic. She missed the dark, vaguely smoky smell you found, despite the no smoking signs, in the hidden levels of La Volpe, whether you were in New York or Tokyo.

"With Stefan," Lexi added cheerily. "Hell must have frozen over."

Klaus looked at her, clearly not amused as he look another drink. "Yeah," Tyler chipped in. "When was the last time Damon and you were _both_ at one event?"

"To be fair, we don't bother telling him anymore." Matt laughed, glancing at Elena fleetingly. "Elena, this is Klaus. Klaus – Elena. Don't hit on her, Damon will happily punch you."

"I wouldn't punch him." Damon said smoothly, sliding into the booth beside Elena and leaning his elbows on the table. "Unless he pissed me off."

"Him hitting on her would piss you off." Stefan added, sitting next to Lexi and handing her a drink.

Damon raised an eyebrow, taking a swig of his drink. "Yeah." Stefan rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly at his brother. "Can we leave now?" he asked hopefully, gesturing between him and Elena. "I showed up, the press know I'm here. Come on Stef," he wheeled persuasively, looking at his brother irritatingly. "Don't push your luck. I might still mess something up-"

"God, just go." Lexi said loudly, burying her face in her hands.

"Why don't you like me, Lex?" Damon pouted at the blonde. "I'm lovely."

Lexi's eyes narrowed at she took in Damon's mildly putout face. "Because." She sniped.

Stefan bit back a laugh and waved at his brother. "Just leave. Please don't assault any photographers. Again."

"Only if they don't harass us." Damon scowled as he stood up and held his hand out to Elena. She took it gently and let him pull her up swiftly so she was standing nose to nose with the world-renowned womanizer, staring into his icy blue irises. "See you later." He said distractedly, gesturing half-heartedly towards the rest of the table as he stared deep into Elena's endless brown depths.

"Bye." Stefan and Klaus chorused smugly, sending each other suggestive looks concerning their brother and best friend.

"Yeah. Bye." Damon said carelessly, keeping his unmoving eyes fixed on Elena. His hand dropped hers suddenly and found it's way to the small of her back again and began leading her down the stairs towards the exit. The second their feet touched the outside concrete, the cameras exploded. Flashes erupted around Elena's eyes, disorientating her for a few seconds as bright lights blinded her world. A chorus of jumbled yells finally reached her ears, and countless faces blurred in front of her.

"C'mere." Damon said quietly, winding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her back through the throngs of people and into a quieter side street. "This way."

"Quite a life, huh?" she questioned playfully as she pushed a strand of hair out of her face and began walking beside him through the orange washed streets.

"I'm sorry." He shrugged, looking at the ground as a small scowl appeared on his face.

"What?" she stopped short and stared at him in confusion. "What the hell you on about?" she asked incredulously.

Damon smiled ruefully, leaning against the damp concrete walls and looking at her with a soft smile. "You'll be all over the internet tomorrow and I'm sorry."

Elena grinned at him mischievously. "What makes you think the world wants to read about you? Maybe they'll all lose interest in you and I'll be in the clear."

"Yes," he drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "_That's_ why those photographers were so intent on getting a shot of your face."

"Maybe I've got a secret double life you don't know about 'cause you're so wrapped up in your own." She quipped cheerfully, sending him a playful wink.

"God, you're really something, you know that?" He said in disbelief, shaking his head in shock. "You're not at all fazed by this, are you?"

"By what? The world-famous, blue-eyed devil of a man standing in front of me?" she asked smirking, mirroring his pose and standing opposite him with her arms folded across her chest. "Not a big deal. I do feel kind of like Cinderella though." She admitted with a grin.

He pouted, cocking his head to the side and examining her intently. He'd never paid much attention to woman's clothes unless they were lying on the floor, but now, he found himself appraising every inch of the girl's figure. From her skyscraper black fuck-me heels, up her long, tanned legs, to the black skirt and floating coral top. Not to mention that fucking black leather jacket she was wearing, _god_, he loved those. Why was it that leather was so deliciously tempting when women wore it? _Especially_ dark haired doe-eyed girls who couldn't care less about being alone in a quiet side street with a world-famous member of a world-famous band.

"Well Cinders, you're due to turn back into a pumpkin," He said, glancing at his watch. "At least an hour ago."

"Cinderella didn't turn into a pumpkin. You need to sort out your fairytales, Damon Salvatore."

"Elena, I couldn't care less about Cinderella not turning into a pumpkin." He said bluntly, giving her an exasperated look.

"Stop using Cinderella references then. _Gosh_." She said exasperatedly, leaning one of her heels against the graffiti free walls impatiently. "I hate these streets." She grumbled, staring around at the drab walls that surrounded them. The endless grey bricks and dull concrete was so scarce of life, and beauty, and vibrancy that it made her wonder how anyone could live in the apartments above her. They wouldn't look out onto a piece of street art the way she did every morning. They wouldn't have a new perspective of the vandalism with each passing day. They would have grey walls, to match their grey lives and grey personalities.

"What did these streets ever do to you?" he asked curiously, staring around them too. He saw nothing but dark grey walls, washed with the dull gold of the street lamps.

"They're boring. There's no _color_. It's just grey on grey and it bores me." She pouted, standing up straight and folding her arms. "It's the same near La Volpe. It's the same all over this place. The people are too rich with money, the artists don't come here."

Damon stared at her as she spoke, a small smile spreading across his face. You can fall in love with the way people look, or the way the act, or what they pretend to be. Or you can fall in love with the little motions of their beings; a lip biting, or habit of skirting around a crack in the sidewalk or the way their eyes lit up when they talk of the things they love. You can fall in love with the passion they carry with them, and the beauty and wonder they find even in the most insignificant of beautiful things.

"Show me." He told her simply, pushing off the wall and walking over to stand in front of her with his hands pushed deep into his pockets.

Elena whirled around and looked at him, a spark behind her eyes that was still waiting to fade away with the remnants of her tirade. "Show you?"

"Show me color. Show me a place where it's not just grey on grey. Show me a place where the people aren't just rich with money." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "Cinderella's just a fairytale, Elena. You've got me 'til it starts getting light."

Elena gave him an odd look, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "What happens when it gets light?"

"I turn back into an onion." He said with a shrewd smile.

"An onion." she repeated doubtfully. "Why an _onion_?"

"_I_ never said anything about being a fairytale. Come on."

* * *

"Where the hell are we going?" Damon moaned a while later as he ducked under a broken doorframe. "Are we-" he stopped short and stared at Elena as she climbed daintily through a broken window like she'd done it a thousand times before. Well, she probably had. "How are you doing that?"

Elena's face appeared through the glass free frame, her long brown hair hanging in wavy curls over the side of her face as she looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Doing what?"

"Elena, you're in like six million feet heels and a _skirt_. Normal people wearing normal clothes can't climb through windows like you just did."

"Normal?" she said in mock-disgust. "_Normal_?" she shuddered and glared at him playfully. "Come on then. Prove you're not just a pretty face, rock star."

Damon chuckled, shaking his head and jumped through the window with unnerving ease, although, the stumble at the end did ruin the effect slightly. "Did that meet your standards then?"

She chuckled and waved her hand dismissively. "Average. _Come on_," she said impatiently, tapping her heel against the stone floor. "You wanted to see color, you'll get color if you hurry the hell up."

"Shit, you're cranky." He said passively, gesturing for her to lead the way. "You realize this is illegal, right?"

Elena scoffed. "Really Damon? You're bringing that up _now_?"

"Someone's gotta teach you about rules." He said, a coy smirk spreading over his features.

"Is that person going to be you?" she said laughing as she expertly led him through the concrete maze.

"Nope." He said cheerfully, popping the 'p'. "The more rules broken the better."

Her next comment was cut off as they finally ducked under some abandoned metal scaffolding to see the most vibrant display of graffiti he'd ever laid eyes on.

"Holy shit, this is insane." He said grinning widely as he gaped openly at the bursts of color adorning the once drab walls. The wide-open room was an explosion of the beauty you can coax from a spray can. The ceiling to floor windows gave inky black backgrounds to some of the most amazing creations he'd ever laid eyes on. Fuck, it was insane was people could go with a pressurized can. "How did you find this?"

"It's been here for as long as I can remember." She shrugged, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at the paint. "It used to be different."

"You mean people change it?" he asked curiously, tilting his head right back to get a look at the painted ceiling.

"Yeah." She said simply, looking at him like he was crazy. "Old artists leave, new ones discover it – they add their tags, or a whole piece or whatever. They leave their mark. That's what life is all about, right? Finding a way that people will remember you?"

"It's amazing." He said quietly, turning in a slow circle to stare at every inch of the bursting display.

"Yeah." She said softly, gazing at a particular section of wall. She turned her head to look at him, his icy blue eyes jumping out from beneath his dark hair. "Now you know why I hate your Manhattan."

"You don't just hate it because it's grey. I'm not a complete idiot." He pointed out, leaning one shoulder against the painted walls. "You fucking hate it all."

"Observant." She said quietly, pushing off the wall and wandering away, brushing her hand over the coarse walls. " But you're right, I really do fucking hate it all. It's overrated and pretentious and it's everything my life was before I got some sense slammed into me."

"Your Manhattan was different to mine." Damon argued as he walked closer to her and they began walking back to the bustling streets.

"You don't even know what my Manhattan was like." She pointed out as she climbed back through the shattered window with Damon following behind her. "It was the same thing, the same fake people who stopped at _nothing_ to achieve what they wanted. It revolved around money and who knew who and who could buy this and who could buy that." She spat out irritably. "Your Manhattan is exactly like that."

"My Manhattan is about the people." He said with a glimmer shining beneath his icy blue eyes. "And the lights, and the world that I get a chance to be apart of. Yeah, it relies on money – the industry would crumble without it, but it's the people that make it amazing."

"Your fans?" she replied skeptically, raising her eyebrows. "The people who judge your every move and are desperate to know ever detail of your private life?"

"The people who buy our music and come to album signings and write to us. The people who actually believe our music can make a fucking difference. It's crazy, and I'm not in the habit of ignoring the little details that convince me to live through another day, and moments that make the world seem slightly less harsh."

Elena was silent for a while, her mind racing through his words. As he spoke with sparkling eyes about his world, she realized that when you are born into a scene like that you're used like she had been. When you worked your way up into the A-list rankings – as opposed to slotting in right at the top – you held the wonder of it in a new light.

"I was seven years old and forced into pretty dresses and treated like an accessory. I wasn't a child, or a daughter or even a person to my parents. I was an object created for an illusion of perfection." She said quietly, wrapping her leather jacket tightly around her. "If you wonder why I hate the fame and the money you seem to love, then there's your reason."

"So you're not close?" he questioned quietly, glancing at her briefly.

"They died when I was nine." She said distantly, not a whisper of pain gracing her beautiful features.

"That must've hard for a nine year old." Damon said softly as the soft lights of the street lamps glinted of her chestnut hair.

"I don't know what family is like, Damon. But before you had this whole life you had your family – mom, dad, and brother. You've got something to fall back on."

"That blonde girl then. Caroline," he pointed out as the shining lights of the thriving city washed them in their glow. "She's your family."

Elena scoffed, a soft smile appearing on her face. "_Her_ family kicked me out when I was sixteen, you know. My behavior wasn't 'appropriate'." She mocked with a brighter smile as she used air quotations.

Damon burst out laughing, his whole face lit up at she listened to her casual accounts of why she hated his Manhattan so much. The ostentatious galas and balls, the stress and pressures put upon the children as soon as they were born. It was a world that revolved around perfection, and when she hadn't provided that, her parents didn't give her the time of day. He looked at her and held a hand out to her as they stopped in front of the building of the event they had left before. She took his hand and let him tow her safely throw the crowds of people, into to club and back towards the booth they had claimed earlier. Only Stefan, Lexi were seated at the booth now, and a men's jacket slung over the back of the seat suggested one extra who had escaped the couple.

"You're back." Lexi cried happily with a bright grin as she caught sight of Elena. Her expression soured slightly as she looked at Damon's smug expression. "But you brought Damon with you." She pouted playfully as she laughed.

Damon sat down, sliding along the leather-covered bench to make room for her. "He's not all that bad." Elena conceded graciously, winking at Damon slyly.

"See Lex?" Stefan said, nudging his girlfriend. "He's not all that bad." He repeated with a grin. "How'd you end up back here then?"

"Elena showed me her Manhattan," Damon explained cryptically, signaling to a waiter to bring him a drink. "So I brought her back to mine."

Lexi made a face at Damon and leant back in her chair. "Manhattan is Manhattan no matter were you go. It's still just one place." Stefan said as he played with a strand of Lexi's hair.

"It's the best place in the whole world." Damon said stubbornly.

"It is." Lexi reluctantly agreed, shrugging as Stefan shot her an incredulous look. "I don't wanna leave again."

"Great idea! Stay here while we finish the tour. I could use a break." Damon suggested gleefully as the waiter brought his a small tumbler of amber liquid.

"Damon-" Stefan said hesitantly, eyeing the glass in his brother's hand.

Damon gave him a sharp look as he took a pointed gulp. "Not tonight, Stefan. Drop it." He said, and something about his tone made Stefan listen. He dropped it.

"I could survive a few weeks without you," Lexi said thoughtfully, leaning her hands on the table. "It's not like I've got anyone to spend time with while you're rehearsing."

"She'll shut up eventually." Damon whispered in her ear, sending goose bumps across her shoulders as his warm breath brushed against her skin. "Just ride it out."

"I heard that." Lexi snapped testily, glaring at Damon. "I'd happily spend every day alone here if I could escape _you_."

"We're going west next, Lex." Stefan reminded her with a smirk on his face. "We both know you won't miss that." Lexi shrugged, laughing lightly.

"How about you?" she asked Elena, shocking her out of her reverie. "You tagging along?"

"Huh?" she said as she jolted back into the conversation. She laughed shaking her head at her own ridiculousness.

"Are you coming on the rest of the tour with us?" Elena blinked in shock at the blonde's suggestion. "You should. We're going west next. You could keep Damon _company_." She said with a shameless wink.

She looked at Damon shyly, a strange sensation nestling in her stomach. His lips quirked upwards and he looked at her innocent face and shy eyes. "Come at your own risk. Lexi hasn't recruited Hayley into her cult yet, so you're her next target. You'll never get a free moment alone. I mean-"

"We're closing. Get out." An older man dressed in all black interrupted as he approached their table. "I don't care how famous you two are. You still gotta leave when everyone else does."

Damon smirked and stood up with a false smile. "Come on, Jones. You know you love us."

"Boss is afraid to kick you out." Jones said glaring at him. "But I'm not. It's past closing, you gotta leave."

"Leave him alone, Damon." Stefan moaned, winding and arm around Lexi's shoulders and picking up the discarded jacket. "We know you hate him, now let's leave." The couple didn't wait for them. They walked away, arms wrapped around each other. Elena watched with a smile as Stefan pressed a soft kiss to the side of Lexi's head and held her tightly to him. It was surreal to watch such a famous man act so crazy in love, just like the rest of the world.

"You too." Jones said wearily, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door.

Elena shrugged and let Damon pull her gently to her feet. They walked outside in a companionable silence, breathing the icy air of the lobby as it washed over their flushed faces.

"You're good to leave." Damon said quietly as he hesitantly checked outside. "Cameras are gone."

Elena shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair. "They already got a picture of me."

Damon mocked her shrug with a slight twinkle in his eyes. "Let me walk you home."

"I was gonna call a cab. These shoes are like hell." She said with a grin, sticking her foot out shakily and turning her ankle to show him the lethal inventions strapped to her feet.

"So take them off." Damon said, holding onto her elbow to steady her. "Baby steps, 'Lena. Baby steps."

"You try taking baby steps in these heels." She said shaking her head as she stood straight upright stubbornly and began walking in the direction of her apartment. "You won't have time to walk me home."

"I don't have to be anywhere." He told her easily, shoving his hands deeps in his pockets as he walked beside her along the deserted streets.

"It's getting light. Wouldn't want you turning back into a pumpkin." She teased playfully butting her shoulder into his.

"Onion. This isn't a fairytale, remember?"

She shrugged slightly. "You're living _your_ fairytale, so who cares if it's not what every one else thinks is one?"

Damon scoffed, following Elena as she turned around a corner. "You think my life's a fairytale?"

"You mean it's not?" she countered swiftly. "You mean this isn't everything you've ever wanted?"

Damon's eyes became a little darker, a dark cloud settling into the lines of his smile. "I lost a lot getting this life. I expected a bit more."

"This isn't a fairytale, Damon. This is reality." She told him, shooting him a brief look with her large doe eyes glinting in the dim lighting. "And reality is never perfect."

"How about you?" he said easily, acting as if she hadn't spoken.

"What about me?" She glanced at him again, the sharp lines of his profile strikingly abstract under the soft orange glow.

He shrugged as they trudged through the dark streets, the bright lights of the city seemingly unable to blacken the beauty of the darkened walls of the decorated city. "What's your reality, or fairytale, or whatever?"

"I take my lot and make the most of it." She said with an imperceptible shrug and a half-hearted smile. "It could have been worse."

"Everything could always be worse; that doesn't mean that your life is any less significant."

"My parents could still be alive." She said with a guarded look settling across her unlit features. "Then it could be a hell of a lot worse."

Damon wasn't sure how to respond to that. To him, family was the very root of his being. Stefan was his annoying as hell little brother first and unwavering best friend second whose main priority was to keep him in line for as long as humanly possible. His mom was his rock; ever the peacemaker between the raging family arguments that overtook her sons and her late husband's estranged family. His father had been a good man, though harsh in his ways of parenting. Despite his flaws, and the flaws of the rest of his blood, they were family until the rivers ran upward and the sun rose in the wrong (westward?) skies.

"Right on time." Elena said with a small, sad smile as she stopped in front of a door on a street that seemed vaguely familiar – but then again, New York was New York, and had streets in Manhattan and streets the other side of the city that looked exactly the same. As the new day broke across the skyline, she stepped up onto the first concrete step and looked him straight in the eye.

"I don't know. I still have a couple minutes." Damon said as he squinted at the day breaking behind the towering sky rises.

Elena leant her head to one side, studying him intently as he raised one eyebrow and met her intense scrutiny steadily.

"Are you gonna get lost heading back?" she asked, just the right amount of playfulness suffusing through her tones.

Damon swallowed, looking around seriously, his eyes scanning over the unknown streets. "Ah, fuck. Probably." He conceded, running a hand through his hair. "I'll call a cab, it's fine."

Elena sighed, shook her head and held out a hand for him to take. He took it hesitantly, his icy eyes flickering between their joined hands and her amused expression. She tugged on his hand, sending him stumbling up the stairs after her and she let herself into the building and showed him to her front door.

"I'm going to die." Damon deadpanned as Elena opened the door and led him inside. "Seriously." Elena laughed loudly and pulled off her leather jacket and shoes as she disappeared into a room off to the side.

"Don't be so melodramatic!" she called through to him as he sat down comfortably on the leather couch and pulled off his jacket.

Reappearing a few minutes later, she dropped onto the couch beside him and stared at him with that smile that told him she knew a lot of secrets.

"So why have you brought me to your apartment exactly?" he asked with a smirk. "I feel like I'm about to be taken advantage of."

"I couldn't leave you on a street corner, idiot." She said rolling her eyes widely. "Call somebody to get you, or crash here."

"You'd let a stranger crash in your apartment? Are you really that insane?" he scolded disbelievingly as he leant forward and leant his forearms on his legs.

"I guess so." she shrugged and tucked her feet under herself. "After spending several hours together you tend to feel more comfortable around a person. I like you, Damon Salvatore. Maybe not all stars are so wrapped up in their own egos; it makes you want to knock them down about ten levels. Fame isn't always a bad thing. Or so I've decided after tonight."

"Even tomorrow when you're most likely going to be on the cover of nearly ever fucking gossip magazine?" he said bitterly.

"Even tomorrow." She confirmed. "You don't like the publicity?"

He shook his head slowly, his eyes burning straight into her mind. "I don't like everyone knowing every detail of my life. I don't like the idea of them knowing about you."

Elena scoffed incredulously and shook her head in disdain. "Can't been seen hanging around some nobody can you?"

"I didn't mean that and you know it." He snapped shortly, running both hands through his messy black hair.

"Do I?" she challenged, leaning back into the soft arm of the couch.

"Well you should. I don't want you on every magazine cover because I actually like you too. And believe it or not, my life isn't for public viewing." He told her in a much softer tone.

"Isn't it worth it?"

"Not on nights like these. Sometimes I just want to meet a girl, let her drag me fucking everywhere around the city at 2 a.m. then walk her home and act pleasantly surprised when she invites me into her apartment. Is that too much to ask?"

"Even if you weren't famous that'd be a lot to ask." She told him laughing brightly as she wound her arms around one of her legs.

"It didn't stop them before." He said with a wink at her as he reclined again the back of the sofa.

"You're disgusting." She said with a slight smile, throwing a pillow at his face. Silently cheering as it met its target. "And I take it all back, you've got a massive ego."

"Wouldn't be me without it." Damon said, smirking cheerfully, ducking swiftly away from a pillow flying in his direction. "Quit throwing fucking pillows at me!"

"No!" she yelled back, throwing one more as she shook with laughter.

"I gotta say," he said with a grin as threw the remainder of the sofa cushions out of her reach. "I like acting normal."

"Why aren't you an onion yet?" she murmured, dropped her face against her arms and blinking sleepily at him. "Your whole life is a fairytale."

"'Cause I don't live in a fairytale, 'Lena. Sometimes you just gotta accept your reality, it always turns out the way it's supposed to, and it's always going to be fucking shit compared to what you imagined when you were a kid."

"You're a fatalist then." She said groggily, sleep closing in on her faster and faster by the second. She could feel the familiar weight against her shoulders and the itching of her tired eyes. Running a hand through her hair, she forced her eyes open and blinked at Damon Salvatore, sitting across from her on her bargain sofa and staring at her as if she were the desert sunset, setting the sky and the land and the horizon alight with her flame – and maybe to him, she was. "If I pass out, don't you dare wake me up."

Damon smiled softly, tilting his head back against the headrest and letting his eyes drop shut for a moment or two. Subconsciously, his arm draped across the small two-seater sofa and his fingers brushed lightly through her hair once, and then somehow, never seemed to stop. His eyes fell onto her peaceful face, everything, every tiny, insignificant detail of her face was suddenly burned into his brain. The gentle curve of her neck as her hair fell back, the touch of her eyelashes against her cheek, the soft movements of her chest as her breathing slowed.

"Are you staying?" she said, half asleep. Damon smirked and let his eyes finally fall completely shut.

"Yeah." He said softly, the blanket of darkness surrounding him like an old friend.

"Will you get me a pillow?" she asked, smirking through the darkness.

"Shut up 'Lena."

"You shut up." She groaned, burying her face in a pillow and swatting at him lazily letting her hand rest gently on his stomach.

"You started this conversation." He argued back sleepily, cracking one eye open to look at her. "You crazy girl."

She only groaned, her fingers still resting lightly against his skin as his shirt rode up and she slowly drifted to sleep. Amongst the darkness of the night and the faint lights of the never sleeping city, Damon Salvatore sat awake for a long time. Sometimes his eyes were fixed on the shining city lights, and at others they were resting on nothing but the shadowed walls. And then, at other moments, briefly as if he couldn't allow the night to glimpse his weakness, he let his eyes wander to Elena's sleeping face as the soft pressure of her hand against his skin and he to, let sleep take him.

* * *

_A/N: I am so sorry for not updating anything in so long! Personal circumstances delayed my progress, and they may still continue to do so. I will not give up on these stories, but sometimes it may take me longer than other times to update. If anything I hope this is going to kickstart me back into action!_

_Leave me your thoughts! _

_5/3/13_


	3. III

_**iii.**_

* * *

Damon blinked groggily, the bright light burning his bleary eyes. He lifted his neck from the soft sofa cushions, and stared around the foreign room. The plain white walls, dark wood furniture, the odd scattering of various accessories that didn't quite register in his brain. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up roughly and finally pushing himself into a sitting position.

"'Hello?" he said hesitantly, blinking against the early morning sun.

His mind was racing at a hundred miles a minute, his heart thudding furiously at the faint probability, the unrealistic possibility that she could have left him there. He nearly laughed at his ridiculousness. He hadn't even slept with her, something he may even be glad about, which was something definitely not normal. Sex was just sex, there was never much special about it. Sure, it might be hot, or sexy, or even a little bit exciting, but those feelings and emotions and deep 'connections' all the movies talked about were never something he'd experienced. He shook himself, abruptly stopping his train of thought. It wasn't something he experienced _anymore_, he corrected, grinding his teeth together.

"You know, you're thinking pretty hard." Elena said smirking, sitting down beside him and folding her legs beneath her as she handed him a steaming mug. "What's up?"

And just like that, his mind stilled, like the lull of the ocean or the whisper of the wind. But his heart kept on pounding, so much so that he wanted to rip it out of his chest. The last time he'd felt like this around someone, the last time he'd felt so alive, and burning, and happy, it had been with _her_ but the illusion had been shattered and then, so had he.

"Just thoughts." Damon told her, looking at her with foreign gentleness and taking a drink, burning his tongue on the scalding liquid. "You make really strong coffee."

"Some of us like strong coffee." She quipped cheerfully, laughing brightly, the morning sun glinting against her brown eyes, turning them to molten amber, surrounded by her coffee colored waves.

Damon set the mug down gently on the coffee table and cracked his neck, reaching his arms behind his back. He looked at her again, her sunlit golden eyes staring at him in slight confusion. He flopped backwards into the cushions and smirked at her. He paused for a moment, taking a split second portion of his times to simply stare in wonder at this girl in front of him.

Then, of course, the blonde bombshell otherwise known as Caroline Forbes chose that exact moment to invade her apartment. Elena groaned and flopped her head back against the cushions as she heard the familiar clacking of her high heels outside the door and the distinctive scrape of the key in the lock.

"Elena Gilbert, you can't just abandon me outside of a club, _leave_ the club when I finally find you and then not answer your fucking phone! Not to mention I've seen you on the cover of at least four tabloids this morning!" Caroline shouted irritably as she unlocked the door and pushed the door open. "I'm going to kill you-"

The blonde suddenly stood in the entryway of Elena's apartment, staring dumbstruck at her best friend, curled up on the sofa with a mug of coffee in one hand and Damon Salvatore eating out the other.

"Hi." She said, blinking rapidly.

"Hey Care." Elena murmured quietly, standing out and stretching her arms over her head, inadvertently letting her shirt ride up and show a few tempting inches of tanned stomach. The way Caroline was opening and closing her mouth was so comical Damon was struggling to keep his composure. "Just laugh, I know you want to." Elena said exasperatedly to him, rolling her eyes and grabbing her friend's wrist and pulling her into the kitchen.

"What _happened_ last night?" Caroline exploded the second they were in the kitchen, door hanging slightly open. Her jade eyes were shimmering with an undisguised mixture disbelief and excitement. Elena shook her head helplessly, a small smile slipping onto her face.

"Forget I asked." Caroline squealed excitably, bouncing on the balls of her feet in her high heels. She breathed deeply, her eyes wide as she stared at her best friend. "'What the is going on?"

"We met, we talked, and that's _it_. That's all that happened." Elena persisted stubbornly, running her hands through her fallen curls. "Honest!" she said laughing, holding her hands up in surrender.

"Is that all you _want_ to happen?" Caroline questioned brazenly, winking slyly. "Don't give me that look!" she said outraged and giggling.

"I don't know Care." Elena said softly, leaning her chin in her hands. "We're friends, I suppose. If that."

Scoffing, Caroline dug around in her oversized tote for a minute or two before dropping a pile of papers on the kitchen counter with a triumphant smirk. "Friends." She repeated slyly. "Right."

_Has VISION'S bad boy found a new girl?_

_Our favorite bad boy, Damon Salvatore of world famous band VISION, was spotted several times last night in several venues all over our charming city; nothing out of the ordinary for this one some might say. Everything seems like the usual night out for Damon Salvatore: different venues, different parties but only one girl, and that's where our story really starts. And of course, the real question is this: how did this mystery brunette manage to capture the young star's attention? By our last count, this Salvatore has gained a bit of a reputation since the ill-famed breakdown rumors that circled back in early 2011 after _that_ extremely turbulent relationship ended, he certainly hasn't be a one girl kind of man since. From Volpe's exclusive club in Manhattan to the latest press launch of VISION's new album: Maeda, to a backstreet alleyway Damon Salvatore was spotted with only one girl. But who is she?_

Elena shook her head at her friend again, chuckling softly as she turned on her heel and walked back into the living room. She plopped herself down next to Damon and settled her feet in her lap as if she'd be doing it her whole life. His hand fell casually onto her ankle, his fingers absently tracing patterns across her skin.

"Have you seen this?" she asked quietly, gauging his reaction carefully. He took the magazine and turned it in his hands, studying it carefully.

He kept his face perfectly composed, just a glimmer of humor dancing through those eyes. "You look good in print." He stated finally, studying the pictures intently. He glanced at his phone as his started vibrating in his palm, and passed it across to her with a sly smirk. She took it hesitantly, glancing at the display. "She's my publicist." Damon clarified groaning loudly. "I just managed to work my way through the e-mails I've been getting. She's going to kill me. She's not exactly the most understanding of people when things don't go her way."

"Must be weird, having your private life broadcasted to the world. Having someone control everything you say."

"Must be weirder for you." he retorted, running his free hand through his hand and relaxing back against the cushions, his fingers still dancing across her ankle, tapping out a beat against her skin.

"They'll forget about me in a day or two." She shrugged.

"Not if you come on tour." Damon said smirking, a small flash of hopes shooting through his eyes.

"You were serious about that?" Elena spluttered, sitting up. "I can't come on tour with you."

"Sure you can. It's great."

"I can't just _leave_."

"Why not?" he argued, smirking knowingly.

"Because." she said stubbornly, glaring at him. "I have work." She invented wildly causing Damon's face dropped sadly, a wash of regret settling into his features.

Caroline burst out laughing from the doorframe leading to the kitchen. "I have work." She mimicked, chortling happily. "You quit yesterday. That's why we went out remember? She said slyly, winking cheerfully as Elena whirled around in surprise; she thought her friend was still in the kitchen and had hoped she would stay there _quietly_. "So, no you don't have work. Just go, enjoy your life for once."

Damon smiled in triumph. "Excellent. Listen to Blondie."

"Caroline." Elena protested stubbornly, looking pointedly at her friend.

"Elena." Caroline replied, looking at her meaningfully. "John's flying out here next week to try and convince you to go to L.A. with him for the Gala. Can you imagine how much it would piss him off if you were already going?"

That drew a smile out of her, a mischievous grin flitted across her face and made her eyes dance. "_Excellent_."

Damon's brown furrowed together, his oceanic eyes turning ice cold. "No way. You're not coming just to make some guy jealous. You can do that with any guy you find on the street."

"John is her _uncle_." Caroline clarified, rolling her eyes widely. "No need for you to get jealous, rock star." She quipped quickly, shooting him a look.

"I don't like being used, Blondie." Damon said in a dangerously even voice.

"Speaking from experience apparently." She muttered under her breath, folding her arms across her chest.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said in a low controlled voice, his gaze snapping onto hers.

"You know what I mean." She said contemptuously, rolling her eyes.

"No, please. Enlighten me." He bit out, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You know so much about my personal life, surely you can tell me what it is you mean."

"Everyone knows what happened with you and her." Caroline said calmly. "Just because you didn't talk doesn't mean she kept quiet. It doesn't mean other people kept quiet."

"The world is full of liars, cheats and fakes. Katherine Pierce is simply one of many. Publicity is what keeps you alive in my world, no matter where you get it. Those people will say anything and do anything to have their moment in the spotlight." Elena stared open-mouthed at her best friend, who was standing glaring coldly at the man sitting next to her.

"Whatever." She said scathingly, glaring at Damon irritably. "I'll call you later." She said bluntly, grabbing her bag off the side table and disappearing out of Elena's apartment in a blur of blonde hair.

Tension burned through the previously atmosphere; it was so thick, Elena felt like she could barely breath. Damon hand was still resting gently on her ankle, his fingers stilled against her skin, whatever song that had been stirring in his mind had been silenced just like that. His icy eyes were fixed unblinkingly on a patch of wall. His mouth was set in a firm line.

"You shouldn't listen to her." She said quietly, her eyes searching his face intently.

"Why not?" he said with a heavy sigh, rolling his head back to stair at the ceiling.

"It's not like she knows you."

He fixed his gaze on her, his eyes wide and unforgiving as they bore into hers. "It's not like she really needs to. Or wants to. I wouldn't want to know me."

She shook her head, dragging her gaze away from those eyes; those eyes that glittered like diamonds the morning sun, that raged like an ocean storm. "I might." She said softly, shrugging absently. "And I will once this damned tour is over." She added with a coy grin.

Damon's eyes snapped to hers immediately, a wide smile splitting across his face from ear to ear. With light in his eyes and a smile on his lips, he was heart achingly beautiful in a way a man doesn't want to be portrayed, but when the sun hit his face and his eyes glittered, there was no other adequate word to describe the inhuman exquisiteness of the blue-eyed devil.

"You're coming?"

"I just said that didn't I? Yes, I'm coming on your stupid tour." she said grinning behind his coffee mug as she took a small sip, screwing her face up in disgust at the abandoned coffee.

"Coffee isn't nice, is it?" he said smirking at her. "And for your information, my _stupid tour_ is sold out."

"For your information, I know." She mocked, smirking right on back at him. "My friend Bonnie wanted tickets. She was gutted when they were sold out. She's half in love with you."

Damon sighed and reclined against the soft cushions. "Can you blame her? Look at me." He said lazily, gesturing towards himself vainly.

She just rolled her eyes. "I'm ignoring that."

Damon just smiled at her, a faded shadow of that full-blown grin that had once graced his lips. He just looked at her, and for the first time in a long time he didn't see any similarities to the woman who had broken his heart. He couldn't see a speck of cruelty or a whisper of deceit hiding behind masked eyes, all he say was the ways in which she was different and it just made him smile more.

* * *

Three days later, Elena was sitting opposite Caroline in her kitchen glaring irritably at her best friend form across the table. Every six months like clockwork, this conversation would happen. Caroline's parents, Elizabeth and Bill Forbes, were part of the upper circle of America. Collectively, the families within this group could own half the world if they wanted to be involved with each other. They celebrated their good fortune with champagne toasts and extravagant galas surrounded by hundreds of equally well off people. The glitz and the glam, the lights and the parties, however uniformly magnificent and far-fetched they may be, were not worth spending any measure of time with any reminder, no matter how small, of her past. Elena did not care to get close enough to relive memories of a childhood she had never had. She hadn't attended since Caroline's parents had kicked her out at sixteen and she'd fled to New York. It was needless to say that she wouldn't be welcomed back with open arms.

"I'm not going back Caroline." she said stubbornly, her face completely calm.

"You have to eventually. You know that." Caroline groaned, rubbing her temples in exasperation. "You can't _not_ show up. Again." She added rather bitterly, looking at Elena purposely.

"Yes I can." Elena argued disinterestedly as she painted her nails a dark red. "No one will mind."

"Elena!" Caroline yelled exasperatedly. "You're the only Gilbert heir for God's sake. The Gala hasn't had a Gilbert present in _eight years_. No one likes John, so he doesn't count; they tolerate him because he is the only Gilbert they can even get in that ballroom. This is who you are; this is who you're supposed to be. Don't even say a word Elena Gilbert!" she said angrily, waving her finger in her friend's face. "This isn't about your childhood sucking – because it did, I know that, I was there for all of it – this is about your legacy and the fact that you have so many options and you're wasting your life in shitty jobs you don't care about because you're 'taking a break' just to spite everyone! I know you hate every single expectation they put on you but you've been shrugging it off since your parents died, no one _expects_ you do to anything that follows custom anymore so why not go and make a difference in the world? How much money do you have in that trust fund? Millions, Elena. _Millions_! You want to make a difference in the world? Go out and make a difference! Don't sit in this apartment and moan because you don't know what to do with your life."

"I've heard this lecture a million times!" Elena said sharply, throwing her hands up in defeat. "You have family to see when these events happen. You have a reason to trek all around the country – I don't. There is no reason for me being there!"

"You're going to be in L.A anyway!" Caroline protested reasonably, eyeing her best friend carefully. "There's no reason why you can't show up for an hour. Half an hour!"

Elena sighed and buried her head in her hands. "I don't _want_ to go. I get made to feel like nothing!" she spat venomously. "Nothing. So when I'm in L.A if I walk into that ballroom, do not expect anything from me. I mean it do not expect a thing. My whole childhood I was paraded around as nothing but a doll. I grew up thinking I wouldn't amount to anything more than a pretty face with a rich man on my arm."

Caroline sighed loudly, glaring at her best friend. She stood up abruptly. "Fine."

"Fine."

* * *

Elena finally flipped her suitcase closed a week later and violently yanked the zip in a futile attempt to get the bloody thing closed.

"Evening." A smooth voice commented from her door.

Elena flew at least six inches in the air, staggering backwards and clutching her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart. Damon Salvatore was standing in her bedroom doorway looking like sin, all black leather and blue eyes with his arms folded casually across his chest.

"How the hell did you get in here?" she demanded angrily, furiously pointing at him as she absently tried to yank the oversized shirt she was wearing down over her legs.

Damon smirked and pushed himself off the doorjamb. "I met your neighbor on my way up here. She wasn't very accommodating when I asked if you were in. Very surprised to know you had a boyfriend and even more disapproving that I was visiting so late." He grinned mischievously, looking almost charmingly boyish. "People might think we were up to know good." He frowned slightly, digging in his jacket pocket. "Might want to search for a new person to keep this safe. Can't have her giving it out to any old person." He held out her spare key.

Elena snatched her key back and tried to scowl. "Just because you're famous doesn't mean you can just break in to people's apartments."

"I used a key. I didn't technically break anything." Damon said dismissively, brushing her comments off. "I wanted to pick you up."

"We're not leaving until later. You weren't supposed to get me until nine." She whined irritably, bending over and picking up her suitcase to lean it against the wall.

"You were going to back out. I could feel it. You're not the girl who goes cross-country with strangers. Sure, you'll trek around the city with them at two a.m. but you aren't about to fly across America purely for kicks."

"Are you trying to make me back out?" She asked laughing.

"Yes, Elena. I broke into your apartment at two a.m. to make you back out of something I had to beg for you to do."

"Stop being annoying." Elena scolded, sitting back on her bed. "Why are you here then?"

"I didn't want you to bail." He shrugged and grabbed her bags from its place by the door. "You have until I get back up here to change and get any other crap you need."

"You're a demanding ass." She groaned, storming into her closet and aggressively throwing a pile of clothes onto the bed. She turned to look at him, a small smile playing across her face as she watched his leather clad back walk out of her front door.

She tore off the oversized shirt she was wearing and pulled a pair of jeans up her legs. Throwing a baggy grey jumper over a black tank, she cursed Damon mentally as she dashed around trying to find her boots, scowling furiously as she shoved her daily essentials into a tote bag.

"Hurry up." Damon said smirking as he wandered into his bedroom as she threw a hairbrush into her bag, haphazardly ran her fingers through her hair.

"When we get to L.A and I realized I've forgotten something, you're buying me a new one."

Damon rolled his eyes and held out his hand for her bag. She threw it at him irritably. He looked at her, his eyes glimmering impishly. "Come on. We've got a plane to catch."

"You said it was a private plane! If you have a private plane, you can push your freaking private plane back an hour!" she protested, grabbing her keys hurriedly and following him outside into the dark hallway. She pulled the door shut and locked it, scowling as Damon tapped his foot impatiently. "I do not like you." She snapped shortly.

"That also means I can also move it up which is why we have a plane to catch." He said grinning. "You ready for L.A.?" He grinned from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling in excitement as he held his hand out to her.

Elena smiled widely and took his hand, letting him lead her outside into the cool air. "You have no idea."


End file.
